


let me be with you

by edibleflowers



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Male Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 19:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20452160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: T'kiya Swordsworn has wanted Haurchefant Greystone since the first time they met.





	let me be with you

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE HAURCHEFANT OKAY SHUT UP I KNOW. My WoL is never going to be over him. This is just some shameless smut (mostly pining, though, lbr) that took me way too long to write. Many thanks to arumattie for cheering me along as I plonked this out. Title is from the opening theme song from Chobits.

Haurchefant Greystone's expression changes abruptly.

T'kiya Swordsworn had been filling in the leader of Dragonhead Camp about his most recent lead in the conspiracy they'd uncovered regarding heretics poisoning House Haillenarte against them; as Haurchefant's eyes suddenly narrow, though, T'kiya trails off.

"What is it?" he asks, even as he straightens. He'd been leaning on Haurchefant's desk, but now he looks down to see the dusting of snow from his gloves melted into water droplets on the varnished wood. "Oh, I should have--"

Before he can apologize, Haurchefant waves it off with an elegant hand. "Not to worry, my friend. You've been out in the snow all day, and here I've kept you talking when you're probably in want of a hot bath and an equally hot meal. Am I correct?" 

Now that Haurchefant's stopped him, T'kiya recognizes the weariness in his bones. He's used to exhaustion, of course; as an adventurer of Eorzea, he's had to adapt to traveling day and night, to fighting beyond the limits of his ability, to getting up when any other would stay down. (Being blessed by the Mothercrystal has both its benefits and its curses.) He's never considered himself particularly special: a Miqo'te of average height and some ability in marksmanship which led him to take up the bow. Only one physical feature has ever stood out: one of his eyes is dark purple, the other nearly white.

Even with the endurance he's developed, though, he is dead tired. It doesn't help that Coerthas is so Twelvesdamned _cold_ all the time. The only place he hasn't felt his tail near to freezing off is in Dragonhead Camp... and, if he's perfectly honest with himself, in the company of Haurchefant Greystone, the tall, silver-haired Elezen with the warmest smile T'kiya's seen in a long time.

"That's enough answer for me," Haurchefant says. His smile this time is knowing, even a little sly. "It's past dinner time, but I've not eaten yet, so I'll have food brought up to my rooms, and a bath drawn in yours. You can meet me when you're done bathing. And I won't take no for an answer," he adds as he stands, already beckoning over a servant.

Against the friendly force of Haurchefant's charisma, all T'kiya can do is blink and nod. "I'll meet you there," he says, and nearly has to shield himself from the brightness of Haurchefant's smile.

* * *

It's not as if T'kiya's never found men attractive before. Indeed, he's tended exclusively towards them since he began noticing others as something more than playmates. While his older brother is already settled with a wife and child, ready to carry on the Swordsworn legacy, T'kiya always knew he wouldn't be siring children on a woman.

His last relationship was doomed to failure almost before it began, though; T'kiya didn't think the tavern owner's son would mind so much that he needed to focus on his bowmanship, but T'resh's annoyance at T'kiya's plans to see more of Eorzea became an impossible rift between them. Since then, T'kiya's taken partners to bed here and there, but never for more than a night -- and always with the assurance that they would part under good terms.

Then he came to the cold wilds of Coerthas in search of the missing airship once piloted by none other than Cid nan Garlond. As he became entangled in plots of implied heresy among a people plagued by draconic invasion, he'd been directed to Camp Dragonhead -- and its lord, Haurchefant, bastard son of Ishgard's House Fortemps. From that first moment he'd entered Haurchefant's war room, he'd felt as if he'd been welcomed in from the cold... in more ways than one.

Now, in the private apartment he's been assigned within the stone walls of the keep, he relaxes in the hot bath. It's truly miraculous, even if it's probably no more complicated than a mage heating the water with a spell. Only as he soaks in the heated water does he appreciate how abominably cold the weather outside is. Heavy stone doesn't insulate very well against the freezing chill, but the Ishgardians do what they can, lining the walls with tapestries and the floors with woven rugs. T'kiya has a thick, soft robe waiting for him when he emerges from the water; he dries off fully with a plush towel, dresses in warm stockings and breeches, a soft woven shirt, boots lined with fine fur. If one must be assigned to such an inhospitable place, at least such amenities help mitigate the worst of the weather.

Haurchefant's quarters are just down the corridor from T'kiya's own: a sign of the Elezen's esteem towards him, T'kiya's thought more than once. Tonight, however, he wonders if Haurchefant had other intentions when assigning him to these rooms. _No_, he tells himself just as swiftly. No, surely not. T'kiya doesn't like that he's even thinking that way. Better to just not get his hopes up.

Two guards stand sentry outside the wide door at the end of the corridor. "Lord Haurchefant's expectin' you," one of them says, and reaches for the doorknob; T'kiya gives him a nod of thanks as he steps inside. The heavy door swings shut behind him, leaving him standing in a small drawing room of sorts. A fire burns high in the hearth to one side; near the fireplace stands a table flanked by two chairs. _An intimate dinner indeed_, T'kiya thinks, and then scolds himself. He needs to put such thoughts out of his head.

"T'kiya?" Haurchefant's voice calls from further within the chambers -- T'kiya espies an open door that must lead to the bedroom. "Is that you? I'll be right out. The food is on its way."

"It's me," T'kiya says, and it's good that he gets the words out before he sees Haurchefant. Haurchefant emerges from the chamber within, shrugging on a robe beneath which he is wearing, apparently, nothing at all. T'kiya gets a glimpse of pale skin and deep soft shadows beneath the smooth cloth of the robe, and has to look down in a vain attempt to conceal his reaction. "Ah, I'm -- I'm sorry," he says, swallowing hard.

"My apologies." Haurchefant sounds almost amused, rather than shocked or upset. "I didn't realize showing a bit of skin was so scandalous to a Gridanian."

T'kiya moves toward the table, hoping the fire's warmth will help conceal a bit of the blush on his face. "It's -- it's not like that," he says, trying not to stutter. "Pray give it no mind."

Haurchefant goes quiet for a moment, then nods as he finishes tying the sash of his robe in some complicated knot. "Very well. If you insist." He looks about to say more, but then the door opens again, and he turns toward it as a pair of kitchen servants enter with trays of covered dishes in their arms. "Ah! Here we are."

Despite himself, T'kiya hears his stomach growling as the scent of well-cooked meats and other delights fills the room. The servants are quick to set out the dishes -- grilled antelope steaks, root vegetables and a generous portion of savory rice, with sweet pastries for dessert... and, of course, an urn of hot chocolate to accompany their meal. There's a cold stone jug of water as well, but Haurchefant reaches for the urn, giving T'kiya a slight smile.

"I could have wine brought, if you'd prefer?" he says. "Or something stronger. I know most of the men prefer something a bit more on the fermented side to warm them from the inside out..."

"The chocolate is fine," T'kiya says, nudging his own mug closer. He's rewarded by another of those blinding smiles of Haurchefant's.

As they set into the meal, a peaceful quiet descends in the room. The servants are gone, the door closed; they might as well be alone in the world, with no noise but the crackling of the fire and the occasional pop of an ember to accompany their dinner. T'kiya's meals generally consist of travel food or whatever a local tavern might have on the menu that evening; it's rarely fancy, though it's usually at least cooked. Mostly. While the chefs here may not have access to the freshest of ingredients, everything tastes delicious, from the well-spiced meat to the sweet wine sauce accompanying the vegetables, as well as some sort of herb concoction in the rice.

At one point, he looks up to see Haurchefant watching him with a little smile. T'kiya swallows hastily. "What is it?" he asks.

"No, no, it's just a pleasure to see you enjoying the food. I always consider it a compliment to the chef when everyone is too busy eating to talk." The flickering firelight lends Haurchefant's skin a golden glow, and T'kiya has to look away again. His own skin is warm, but he chooses to attribute that fact to the nearby fire.

"It's very good," he says. "Especially when I'm mostly on a diet of trail rations. Even tavern food is rarely this delicious."

"Perhaps it will tempt you to stay here more often, then." Haurchefant's voice is just a degree lower than it was a moment ago; despite himself, T'kiya flicks his gaze back up. A trace of the smile has faded from Haurchefant's eyes, but the look replacing it is one T'kiya wouldn't mistake for any in the world.

It's not possible, he thinks; it couldn't even be the slightest bit probable that Haurchefant's interest in him might be more than friendly. Even if the elezen is a bastard of his house, he's still a powerful lord, a commander whose knights respect and admire him, follow his orders without question. His placement here in Coerthas, at a mountain pass strategically poised to defend Ishgard's front lines, shows the trust of his home nation in him. Beyond that, his forceful personality attracts others like moths to a flame.

Of course, none of those things mean that Haurchefant doesn't have the same needs and desires as most ordinary men. He is, after all, a being like any other, and even a bastard might have relations, might marry and sire children without censure or shame. 

After a moment, T'kiya sets down his knife and fork, reaches for his mug and takes a drink of the hot chocolate. While the beverage has cooled somewhat since it was first poured, it's still warm enough that he drinks slowly, letting the sweetness of it trickle over his tongue. As he lowers the mug again, he brings his eyes up to Haurchefant's once more.

"For a meal like this," he says carefully, "I'd stay here every night."

Haurchefant takes a short breath. Even with the golden glow of the firelight on his skin, T'kiya sees the faintest hint of redness on the elf's face. Has he erred? Haurchefant might be comfortable about showing some skin, but a suggestive remark is another matter.

He's about to open his mouth and apologize for stepping across some invisible boundary when a hand covers his on the table. T'kiya's eyes drop to that hand with its long fingers, its neatly trimmed nails. The knuckles are reddened; T'kiya can feel callouses where Haurchefant's hand rests on his own. 

"I wish you would," Haurchefant says.

Any thought of finishing the meal vanishes entirely from T'kiya's mind. He pushes out of his chair, his eyes never leaving Haurchefant's, and rounds the table until he's standing before the elf. For once, Haurchefant is the one tipping his head back a little to look up at T'kiya; his still-damp hair falls in loose, fine clumps about his face. Haurchefant's eyes are so clear in the firelight--

Before he can stop to think about his next action, T'kiya leans in and kisses him.

He doesn't even have a moment to worry about whether he's done the right thing or mortally offended Haurchefant for all time. Haurchefant's hands rise to T'kiya's face, cupping his skin under soft wings of dark blue hair, and he pushes up in his chair, eagerly rising to the kiss. Something bright and warm swells in T'kiya's chest, something that scares him even as it makes him want to crow with happiness. In the next instant, Haurchefant is on his feet: now T'kiya is the one tilting up, craning his neck to reach Haurchefant's mouth with his own. He has to go up on his toes; his hands find purchase on Haurchefant's trim waist.

A hand slides around to cup his nape, the other the back of his head; fingers work at a sensitive spot behind one long ear. Despite himself, T'kiya lets go of a little sound, hungry, yearning. He would say something about how he's longed for this, how he's craved Haurchefant's touch -- but that would mean he'd have to stop kissing Haurchefant, and T'kiya never wants to stop kissing Haurchefant for the rest of his life. The mouth against his is sweet and hot: when he feels the gentle pressure of a tongue-tip against his lips, he sighs, opens eagerly for it.

"Bed," Haurchefant breathes out, a warm puff against T'kiya's mouth. "Yes?"

T'kiya nods, lets go of the faintest laugh. "Twelve, _yes_\--"

The few steps into the bedchamber seem an eternity, even though they're accompanied by laughter as the two of them stumble, turning and bumping into side-tables and bookshelves along the way. Then Haurchefant is guiding him through the door to the inner chamber. T'kiya has a moment to take in the room: another fireplace with a blaze built up in it on one side; a desk covered in papers and books; portraits hung on the walls in between tall, narrow windows. Then Haurchefant is tugging him over to the enormous bed in the center of the chamber, and he goes without a second thought.

For a moment his hands begin to work without any input from his brain, tugging automatically at the sash of Haurchefant's robe in an effort to hasten the encounter. Haurchefant sits down abruptly, though, taking T'kiya's hands and drawing him closer until he stands between Haurchefant's legs; a glance down reveals bare thighs just visible beneath the edges of the robe, and T'kiya is stunned into momentary stillness at the sight.

"T'kiya." Haurchefant's voice is soft but firm, drawing T'kiya's attention back to the here and now. "I don't--" He sucks in a breath. "I don't know what sort of... what sort of trysts you're accustomed to." He seems to falter, then, making T'kiya's heart thump almost painfully; a moment goes by as if words are failing Haurchefant entirely. Finally, he speaks again, head lifting to look directly at T'kiya. "I don't do this sort of thing very often. With men or women. I -- you. You're... you're not like anyone else I've known, and I -- I've grown to care for you quite deeply."

Pale blue eyes search T'kiya's as if seeking an answer to a question unspoken. T'kiya's throat works. Now he's the one reaching to rest his hands at the sides of Haurchefant's neck.

"I feel the same way," he says. "Whatever this is -- whatever... whatever you want, Haurchefant, I only want to... To be with you," he finishes at last, feeling lame and slow. There are limits to what they can be to each other. T'kiya knows that. "We might not have much time," he adds, hating himself for even saying it, "but what we have, I want to make the most of."

A shadow flickers for a moment in Haurchefant's eyes; T'kiya hears his breath hitch. Then Haurchefant is nudging in for another kiss, his lips soft on T'kiya's, almost unbearably tender. It's all the agreement T'kiya needs. He pushes in closer, urgent, tongue seeking into the heat of Haurchefant's mouth. The kiss grows, deepens, goes dirty: Haurchefant's teeth nip at his lip, and T'kiya sucks at Haurchefant's tongue.

Finally giving into greed, T'kiya slides his hands down to the tie of that damnable robe, its fine fabric a thin barrier against the heat of Haurchefant's skin. While he pulls and tugs to undo the sash, he feels Haurchefant's hands sliding up under his shirt in the back, and he groans.

"Come here," Haurchefant murmurs, tugging him closer. Without thinking, T'kiya obeys. One knee finds the mattress, then the other; he settles lightly to Haurchefant's lap. Now Haurchefant's hands drag his shirt up, hurried, and T'kiya lifts his arms to let the damnable attire be stripped from him. Too many clothes between them, so many articles to remove--

Haurchefant moves suddenly, effortlessly lifting T'kiya from his lap and turning him in one swift motion. Suddenly T'kiya's flat on his back in the middle of the huge bed, his whole front cooler now that he's not pressed up to Haurchefant's half-bared chest. He blinks, but Haurchefant, standing beside the bed, only smiles.

"Let me have this moment," Haurchefant says. Swallowing, T'kiya nods.

One after the other, the soft boots are drawn from his feet. The stockings follow: T'kiya's toes curl in the cold air. Haurchefant rests one knee on the bed, his robe gaping open; he leans down with arms braced on either side of T'kiya's shoulders. This time his kiss is easy and light, tantalizing in its gentleness. He draws back before the kiss can deepen, forcing a frustrated growl from T'kiya's throat.

"You intend to drive me mad," he mutters.

Haurchefant laughs, low and soft, his smile sly in a way that goes straight to T'kiya's core. "Eventually," he chuckles. "But I promise you'll enjoy it." 

"I have no doubt of th-- of that--" T'kiya's next words stutter and fail as Haurchefant's nimble fingers now find the ties of his trousers. The simple laces fall apart easily, revealing a soft inner lining and the erection straining against it. T'kiya swallows hard. Normally this moment is nothing, over in a heartbeat as he eagerly moves on to explore new pleasures with his bedmate.

Haurchefant only sucks in a breath as he settles on his knees beside T'kiya on the bed. "Not going shy on me now, are you?" His voice is quiet, and his fingers trail a path up along T'kiya's belly, drifting almost -- _almost_ \-- aimlessly. Calloused fingertips brush over a nipple: T'kiya gasps, skin puckering to pebble-hardness under the gentle glide.

"N-no," T'kiya manages, but it still takes an effort to drag his eyes back up to meet Haurchefant's. What he sees there sends another hit of lust surging through his veins; Haurchefant's eyes have gone dark, nearly black, with only a thin rim of blue all the way around. His chest rises as he takes in a deep breath; his cheeks are stained red, high with color.

Even though he knew that this was something they both desired, the sight of Haurchefant in arousal nonetheless makes heat curl in T'kiya's belly. He pushes up on one elbow, lets his other hand stroke up Haurchefant's thigh, strong and lean under the thin fabric of the robe. Those luminous eyes close briefly, then open again, lids low over dark pupils.

"Please," Haurchefant whispers. Not quite sure what Haurchefant is asking for, T'kiya nonetheless has a specific goal in mind. He reaches for one end of the sash keeping that damnable robe closed and tugs on it. It's tied tightly; T'kiya has to shift closer so that he can use both hands, but then it's loosened, coming apart, the panels of the robe falling open. 

"Come here," he breathes, and Haurchefant does. Haurchefant's skin is warm and smooth and delightful on his own bare chest; T'kiya lets himself indulge in each slow kiss as he draws Haurchefant down to him.

For a time, he's content with just this, with the pleasure of Haurchefant's mouth and lips and tongue. He takes his time learning Haurchefant's taste, exploring the shape of his mouth -- even as his hands seek into the trapped warmth under that robe, finding secret heat, hidden silken skin even softer than the robe covering it.

He wants more, now: he needs to feel more of Haurchefant, impatience stealing his breath and sanity. In this, fortunately, they're of one mind. When he pushes the robe up and away from Haurchefant's shoulders, Haurchefant sits up long enough to shrug the garment from his arms, then tosses the whole thing aside to let it land somewhere in a forgotten heap. Greedy, T'kiya tugs Haurchefant to him again.

"How do you want me?" he breathes against Haurchefant's mouth.

Haurchefant's response is a low ripple of laughter that goes straight through T'kiya. "I've thought of so many ways," he mutters, "so many -- so many ideas, so many different ways I've longed to have you." His smile is wicked now when he draws back to look down at T'kiya, and T'kiya thinks he'd do anything to keep Haurchefant smiling at him like that. "And you? What do you want?"

T'kiya's throat goes dry, so much so that it's a moment before he can respond. "Just you," he says at last. "Just this." His arms slip from around Haurchefant, but only so that he can finally shove the damnable pants down and out of the way. He shivers a little as he kicks them off at last, but not from the cold in the room. Oh, no: Haurchefant is entirely naked over him now, long and lean and muscled, pale skin and strong limbs covering him completely. 

His hands come up around Haurchefant, exploring the broad shoulderblades hard under the skin, mapping the deep valley of his spine, then sliding lower. Haurchefant's arse is delightful, a double handful for him to grasp: Haurchefant breaks the kiss with a gasp as T'kiya squeezes, and then he laughs, hips jerking impatiently.

"F-for the love of--" Haurchefant groans. "You feel too good like this, too godsdamned good..." He trails off, and this time the motion of his hips is more calculated. His stiff erection drives against T'kiya's own, sending a wave of sensation through T'kiya. The rest of the room might be cool, but here, between them, there's nothing but heat. Sweet pleasure rolls over him as Haurchefant drives his hips to meet T'kiya's again, and then again.

T'kiya might want more, eventually, but right now this shocking sweetness is more than enough for him. He spreads his legs a little to give Haurchefant more room; even as he tips up to seek another hungry kiss, he slips a hand between them, gathering both of their cocks together in his fist. Haurchefant's rippling cry echoes in the chamber; a similar moan climbs out of T'kiya at the sensation of smooth hot skin gliding and grinding, their erections rocking together. Pleasure only deepens when T'kiya begins to slide his fist over them in a quicker rhythm: then Haurchefant picks it up, fucking into his hand, and T'kiya loses the ability to think altogether.

There's no world outside this bed anymore. Their heated panting and low gasps, the sounds of slick wet kissing, are the only noises in the whole of Eorzea. Haurchefant pushes up to lock his arms and grinds hard into the tight grasp of T'kiya's hand; T'kiya hitches his ankles over Haurchefant's calves, locking them together. Dazed, he watches Haurchefant, watches the pure pleasure washing over his face: Haurchefant's eyes are blown black and huge, his mouth open as if he can't fathom the intensity of the sensations.

T'kiya could watch that face forever, especially as Haurchefant speeds and moans and shudders. He grips tighter, slides his fist faster: he needs to see Haurchefant come more than anything in the world right now. It happens in a stunning instant: Haurchefant's face and ears have gone deep red, and he flings his head back as it takes him, a rasping groan pulled out of him as if by force. T'kiya's close, too, so close -- slick with sweat and now heatedly aware of the spurts of spunk all over his chest and belly -- but he would swear it's that image, the sight of Haurchefant in the throes of pure physical ecstasy, that sends him flying over the edge. He arches up, pushes his head back into the pillow as climax pours through him, hot and powerful, leaving him gasping and dazed in its wake.

Haurchefant's arms are trembling. That's the first thing that T'kiya registers. The room spins and drifts around him, but Haurchefant is still holding himself up as if he can't bear to rest his weight on T'kiya.

"Twelve, Haurchefant," T'kiya breathes, "why are you so far away--" He reaches for Haurchefant, tugging him down. Haurchefant collapses on him with a low, soft sound, and -- it's faint, but he fancies he hears a weak laugh.

"I'm not too heavy, am I?" he mumbles into T'kiya's shoulder.

"Never." T'kiya brings a hand up to Haurchefant's damp hair, slips his fingers through the silver strands. He closes his eyes and breathes in, satisfied, the scents of sweat and semen and sex. "Not for me."


End file.
